


The Problem with Pointed Hats

by bravenclawesome



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Age Regression/De-Aging, Artur is accidentally turned into a five-year-old, Banter, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Crying, Cute, Face Slapping, Fanart, Gen, Head Injury, Humor, Injury, Injury Recovery, Insults, Magical Stereotypes, Major Character Injury, Nudity, Podfic Welcome, Powerful Magic, Sentimental, Sickfic, Slapping, Swearing, Swordfighting, Swordplay, Swords, Temper Tantrums, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Vomiting, accidental magic, kid!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravenclawesome/pseuds/bravenclawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took a while before Arthur was able to speak, due to the fact that he was spluttering in outrage. “Merlin,” he said finally, his voice several notches higher in pitch than it had been the last time he opened his mouth. “You – oh God, you’ve – fuck, you’ve turned me into a bloody <i>child</i>, you idiot!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Pointed Hats

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged to write a Merthur story without a single hint of slash, but after writing this, I realised that I had failed for the most part. If you know where to look, this fanfiction is actually riddled with innuendo, and Arthur’s nudity at the end of the story doesn’t help, either. But then again, since the original material by the BBC was so slashy anyway, I think I can be excused.
> 
> This story was inspired by a [Twitter conversation](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BtB0VSpCMAA0lw7.png:large) that I had with a fellow Internet friend. I hadn’t expected the story to be quite this long, though! If my memory serves, this is the longest single-chaptered story I have ever written. It’s not much compared to many wonderfully written oneshots I’ve read, but hey, it’s an improvement by my standards.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta neuroticnick for trawling through all my errors, and OrangeMouse for drawing such amazing fanart for me. When I saw the art I was so happy I almost cried :'D

The court sorcerer’s formal robes were simply _awful._

Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true; the robes were made of velvet, a deep purple several shades darker than one of Merlin’s tunics, which was a colour that actually suited him quite well. The fabric was sewn together with fine silver thread that glittered in the light, as if snatches of starlight had been embedded into the cloth itself.

The problem was the absolutely _atrocious_ pointed hat that went with it.

The hat was of a similar colour, but it had the most ridiculous silver stars Merlin had ever seen embroidered all over the cloth. The stars weren’t even regular in shape; some had corners that jutted out slightly longer than the others, and the number of points each star had varied from four to seven. And of course, the hat itself was _pointed._ If there was one stereotype that Merlin could name for all things magic, this was it.

Merlin had nothing against the robes, but he absolutely did not want to wear the hat. It was the complete opposite of what he had envisioned wearing when serving the court (which, he grudgingly admitted, was actually not too different from what he wore all the time), and he imagined doing so would give him a distinctly dotty look. Besides, his neckerchief was already a big enough fashion statement without having that abomination of a hat thrown into the mix.

Arthur, however, was adamant. “These are the court sorcerer’s formal robes, Merlin, and as the King of Camelot, I order you to heed my words,” he said, his tone firm as he held out the robes to the warlock. Arthur normally never pulled rank with Merlin, but whenever he tried to, Merlin did what he had always done: he completely ignored it.

“I will _not_ ,” Merlin said loudly. “That hat is an absolute monstrosity.”

“Merlin, there is nothing wrong with these clothes,” said Arthur in exasperation. Merlin watched him take a deep breath and close his eyes before giving a long sigh. “Look,” he continued calmly, “all the court warlocks in the five kingdoms wear the exact same thing, Merlin, and as far as I know, none of them have objected to wearing the hat. This is the universally accepted clothing for people of magic serving the court.”

Arthur tried to push the robes into Merlin’s hands, but Merlin folded his arms and glared at him. “Oh, come on, idiot,” he said, almost pleadingly. “At least try it on. You won’t know if it suits you or not until you put it on!”

“I don’t care,” Merlin replied, his voice beginning to shake a little from how unfair Arthur was being. He wasn’t a common warlock who wore pointed hats and did magic tricks, after all. He was motherfucking _Emrys._

Arthur exhaled loudly through his nose. “If you don’t wear these robes, _Mer_ lin,” he warned, “I’m afraid I’ll have to put you in the stocks until you see sense.”

Though Merlin could tell that Arthur’s tone was laced with an edge of playfulness, the words still stung. Merlin’s head snapped up quickly, shock written all over his face, and Arthur flinched a little. After a few seconds, Arthur opened his mouth again.

“Queen Annis will be coming to visit tomorrow night, so you, _Mer_ lin, would be shaming my kingdom by not wearing the appropriate dress. Obviously, I can’t have that – ”

“Oh, I’d be shaming your _kingdom_ , would I?” Merlin burst out suddenly, his cheeks flushing beet red. “Have you thought about _my_ shame? Have you no care for my pride? I’m not going to put those robes on and parade around in a stupid pointed hat. I can understand why you made me wear that feathered hat all those years ago, as I was a servant back then, but I’m a court warlock now. Perhaps you’re too much of a cabbagehead to realise, but last I heard, a court sorcerer was a much more esteemed position – ”

“Merlin, will you please just – ”

“Sometimes I wonder if you remember what I’m here for,” Merlin said loudly over the sound of Arthur’s voice, cutting off the rest of his sentence. “My purpose is _not_ to entertain, Arthur, but to _protect_. Yes, I still come in to wake you up in the mornings, and yes, I still dress and undress you every day, and I may be your servant in many respects, but only to _you,_ and not to the kingdom itself. I will serve you until the day I die, but I will not embarrass myself while doing so, especially now.”

Merlin took a step closer to make his point. Merlin stepped closer and used his height to his advantage. It always gave him a bit of satisfaction making Arthur look up at him to maintain eye contact. Granted, Merlin was only taller than him by an inch, but he often used that inch to his advantage as much as possible.

“I take part in your council meetings,” he continued, “and I don’t see _Gwen_ wearing a hat to go with her dress, and I know for a fact that the other council members aren’t going to wear hats either, let alone pointed ones. So my answer is no. I have dignity too, you _prat_!”

 _“_ MERLIN! _”_ Arthur shouted, having seethed in silence for the whole time Merlin was ranting at him. He shoved the clothes into Merlin’s hands and poked him hard in the chest. “You will _do as I say!_ ”

Merlin poked Arthur back, just because he could. “I will _not_! You can’t make me!”

“Christ _,_ Merlin, you’re such a _child!”_

“NO, YOU’RE THE CHILD!” Merlin yelled back, but his voice had changed; instead of carrying the usual insolence both had grown accustomed to over the years, it was deep and powerful, and the sound seemed to come from all directions as well as from Merlin himself. The windows began to rattle in their frames, splintering at the edges and causing bits of wood and glass to fly out everywhere; the door swung open and closed wildly, creating a racket that would probably batter the ears of everyone in the vicinity, and the curtains swayed, as if caught in a gale.

“Oh no _,_ ” Arthur said, his eyes darting around at the chaos, obviously trying to stay calm. “Christ, okay. Merlin? Merlin, _don’t_.”

But despite the king’s efforts, the cacophony only got worse; now the chairs and tables were rocking in their places too. The flames in the hearth rose in a column so high that the tip of the fire disappeared up the chimney. The wall-ornaments swung from side to side, barely hanging on to where they were stuck to the wall. Merlin tried to rein in his magic, but found that he could not. He could only watch helplessly as Arthur looked fearfully around him.

Merlin knew it wasn’t the actual _magic_ that Arthur feared, but the fact that the magic was coming from Merlin himself; with Merlin, everything was unpredictable, and it didn’t help that Arthur had yet to properly get over the dogma and anti-magic propaganda forced into his head by Uther over the years. _Those_ thoughts still continued to bother him at times, and Merlin often noticed that Arthur still couldn’t help flinching when he used magic for the simplest everyday tasks in front of his king.

And of course, as both of them knew, Merlin was immensely powerful. He had lost his temper in the past, and often caused multiple spillages and fires in Gaius’ chambers, but this time was different. He had never lost control of his temper in such a way before. The rage fuelled his magic until his whole body felt like it was burning from within. Merlin looked down at himself, half expecting to see his body covered in flames, but found instead that he was glowing slightly at the edges, the light pulsing to the rhythm of his rapidly beating heart. Merlin had yet to grasp the full extent of his powers, but judging from the wide-eyed expression on Arthur’s pale face, his rage was something quite fearsome to behold. Even the floor itself seemed to be trembling, but Merlin could not stop; by now he was so overcome with fury that his entire body was shaking with it.

“MERLIN, CONTROL YOURSELF!” Arthur roared in a last-ditch attempt to placate him. “There is NO NEED to – ”

Suddenly, an explosion of gleaming white completely wiped out their surroundings and blinded them both. For at least half a minute, everything was completely silent, save for an incessant ringing sound in Merlin’s ears, though that could be attributed to the adrenaline rush. Merlin shielded his eyes with an arm over his face, but his eyes were burning hotter than they ever had when he used magic, so much that he cried out when the back of his hand touched his eyelids. He almost definitely burned his knuckles.

With his eyes squeezed shut, Merlin felt like his eyelids were getting burnt right off from the heat. He heard Arthur’s indistinct yell, followed by a crash that meant he had fallen over, and judging from the sound he made, it seemed that he had landed hard on his back. Merlin heard another shout of his name and Arthur telling him to stop this _right the fuck now_ because this was really getting out of hand and he couldn’t see.

Merlin knew that it was only a set of robes, which he could easily have incinerated with a wave of his hand, but for some reason, he was just so _angry._ However, it was too late now; all he could do was wait until his magic returned to normal. Blood was pounding in his ears, making it difficult to make sense of what was going on around him. His magic had gotten ahead of him without his say-so once again.

He was the most powerful sorcerer in the world, after all.

* * *

At long last, the light faded, and after a few seconds, Arthur deemed it safe to open his eyes. He had fortunately fallen in the direction of his bed, so his head had knocked against the soft mattress, though his arse had landed on the floorboards, meaning that it currently ached something awful. He was now sitting on the floor, with his back and neck pressed up against the side of the bed. Everything had returned to normal, though the purple robes he had so forcefully persuaded Merlin to wear were now strewn across the floor to his right in the far corner. From the way the collar had caught on the windowpane, Merlin (or rather, Merlin’s temper) had apparently tried to chuck the robes straight out of the window, though without much success, as it was closed. Arthur’s eyes did a quick scan around the room, and he was reassured to find that nothing had been damaged or broken. He breathed a sigh of relief, and looked at Merlin.

“See? No harm done – ”

Arthur stopped and narrowed his eyes. Fixing his gaze on Merlin, he cleared his throat. “Merlin, is it just me, or have you suddenly grown taller?”

Merlin looked distinctly rattled, and had the most peculiar expression on his face; it was a mixture of shock, surprise, fear, and… barely masked amusement?

“Oh no,” was the first thing Merlin said about half a minute later, his blue eyes wide. “This is not good. At all.” He lifted a shaking finger and pointed at Arthur, clearly meaning for him to look down at himself and…oh.

Arthur’s clothes hung loosely off of him, the collar wide enough to stretch over one shoulder, and his arms had disappeared into the sleeves of his tunic. Similarly, his boots were suddenly too big for his feet, and his trousers were ridiculously bunched up to his knees. Even the rings on his fingers were scattered across the floorboards, and he watched one spin a few times on its side before finally toppling with a tinkling sound.

“Merlin,” said Arthur, very quietly, fighting to keep his voice as calm as possible. “What have you done to me?”

In the next instant, Arthur had clapped a hand over his mouth – it was only now that he noticed how high his voice had become, almost like a girl’s. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish before he gulped once, loudly. _Fuck_ , even his gulp sounded feminine.

Oh gods, Merlin hadn’t turned him into a _woman_ , had he? Not caring about his kingly manners, Arthur hastily reached into his too-wide breeches and felt around.

Nope, still there. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. 

However, Merlin’s expression was now transitioning to something that resembled something more like worry. “I-I’ll just go and fetch you s-something to look at yourself with, sire,” he stammered. “Perhaps that’ll be better than having me explain it.”

He rushed over to the dresser, but the only mirror there was the one hung on the wall, which was much too big for him to carry over to where Arthur was sitting on the floor near his bed, let alone remove from its place. Arthur almost told him to use magic to do it, but then remembered that Merlin had just thrown a magical hissy fit and promptly closed his mouth. If Merlin’s rage was an earthquake, Arthur guessed that there would surely be aftershocks if he did anything else to trigger it, so asking him to do more magic would probably not be the best course of action to take.

Merlin picked up one of the silver plates on the table and handed it to Arthur, who held it up to his face. What he saw in it made him drop the plate in shock, and it clattered loudly on the floorboards, the clanging sound bouncing off the walls.

It took a while before Arthur was able to speak, due to the fact that he was spluttering in outrage. “Merlin,” he said finally, his voice several notches higher in pitch than it had been the last time he opened his mouth. “You – oh God, you’ve – fuck, you’ve turned me into a bloody _child_ , you idiot!”

When Merlin spoke, his voice was very, very small. “I told you it wasn’t good.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, then opened them again and bit his lip. “But I haven’t just turned you into _any_ child, have I?” he continued, his words speeding up and running into each other as he rambled. “Judging by your looks, it seems you’ve been de-aged to…” He cocked his head to the side, his gaze calculating. “I’d say… five years old?” He turned his head the other way. “Or six. I’m not sure.”

“Shit. Great, that makes me feel a hell of a lot better, thanks,” Arthur huffed, wincing at the pitch of his voice. “I don’t _care_ what age I am, _Mer_ lin, just turn me back into my old self RIGHT NOW!”

There was a long pause, one that made Arthur dread Merlin’s answer more with every passing second. When it finally came, it was exactly what Arthur had feared.

“I – I don’t know how to, sire,” Merlin said finally, his tone unusually meek. Merlin normally made every royal title sound like a sarcastic insult to the person he addressed, but this time he actually sounded sincere. “When my magic lashes out like that, it’s difficult to reverse its effects. It’s happened with Gaius before, and back in Ealdor as well, but never on a scale like this.” He bit his lip. “I don’t think your mind has been affected, though. You still have your memories of prior events, and you’re swearing a lot more than any child would, which can only mean that your mentality is still that of an adult, so if this spell only changed you physically - ” 

“Merlin, I strongly implore you to shut up.” Arthur put his head in his hands, then gave a very loud squeak when he found that they were fat and chubby. “Fetch Gaius for me,” he ordered, pointing imperiously towards the door. _“Now!”_

* * *

As soon as Gaius entered the room and saw Arthur, his eyebrows went up so high they barely stopped short of hitting the ceiling. His mouth went into a perfectly round O as he stared for a few seconds, and Merlin would have laughed if the situation weren’t so serious.

“I see what Merlin meant by ‘a grave emergency’ now,” Gaius said finally. Merlin saw Arthur glaring at him and immediately felt sheepish, so he stepped behind the old man in an attempt to hide his face. Though it didn’t work, as he was practically a head taller than him. “I shall have to consult my spell-books for this. Merlin, come with me, you can help.”

“No,” said Arthur as Merlin turned to leave with Gaius. “Merlin will remain here with me. I can’t possibly wear these clothes, so do something with them. You’ll probably have to use your magic, but things can’t get much worse than this, so I suppose we’ll just have to make do." 

Merlin gulped, but with an encouraging nod from Gaius he turned and shuffled back into the room. Gaius shook his head and sighed before making his way back to his chambers.

“What do you want me to do, Arthur?” Merlin asked tentatively.

“Well, you’ll have to resize these clothes for me so I can actually fit into them,” Arthur replied after hesitating slightly at Merlin’s almost docile tone. “Here, do my tunic first.”

Arthur tried taking the overlarge garment off by himself, but somehow managed to get lost in the mass of fabric. “I… think I need a little help here,” he said resignedly, his voice muffled.

Merlin couldn’t help but grin at the endearing picture it created, but reached up and pulled the tunic off with one swift move. Arthur blinked, his hair messed up and fluffy all over and surrounding his head like a halo. Unable to stop himself, Merlin reached forward with his other hand and ruffled Arthur’s hair.

Arthur instantly swatted it away, looking extremely disgruntled. Merlin noticed that Arthur’s chest was completely devoid of hair and slightly less muscled, with a little more fat than he had had before. 

“Well, go on, then,” Arthur said, pointing at the tunic in Merlin’s hands and promptly snapping him out of his trance. “And you had better do a good job of it, or you really will have to wear the pointed hat tomorrow.”

Merlin looked up sharply. “Does that I mean I’ve won?” he asked excitedly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I thought that if I refused, only God would know what you’d do next.”

Merlin chuckled and held the tunic up, measuring it to Arthur’s torso so he could figure out how much he needed to alter it by. “Right,” he said slowly. He held up the tunic again and whispered a few incantations, one to reduce the surface area of the cloth, and the other to make the threads thinner so as to ease the shrinking and make the material finer for Arthur’s now supple skin. The fabric seemed to fold into itself in mid-air, and before long it had shrunk down to something resembling Arthur’s current size. Arthur stared at the miniature tunic in delight, and Merlin grinned proudly before helping Arthur put it on. 

He made quick work of the rest of Arthur’s clothes without messing anything else up, and by the time he had finished with Arthur’s boots, Gaius had entered the room again with a small stack of spell-books in his hands.

“My lord, I’ve managed to find several potions and enchantments that may help to solve this… issue,” he said delicately, setting the tomes down on the table with a _thump._  

Merlin ran over to him and took the top book off the pile of volumes, flipping through it until he found a page that Gaius had dog-eared. He skimmed it quickly, then frowned. “But this one will take _weeks_ to work,” he said. “Queen Annis is coming to visit tomorrow!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to cancel the visit,” said Gaius. Merlin tried not to look too pleased. “We’ll tell her that King Arthur has fallen ill and that we would not wish for his illness to spread to her. There are no spells or potions in any of my books that take immediate effect, and the only one that does would cause Arthur to age so quickly it would cause a premature death. Some of the potions available can only age a person ten years at most, and others turn you into a old man - ” at this, Gaius looked pointedly at Merlin, “ - but none of them can age you twenty years like you need to. I did think of using antidotes to reverse the spell, but since Arthur’s…condition…was not caused by drinking a potion, I doubt it would prove to be successful. Also, any excess drinking of it would lead to multiple bouts of delirium followed by a very painful death. I am sure that is something he would not want.”

“But we can’t cancel the meeting!” Arthur said, and both Merlin and Gaius whipped around to look at him. Merlin just barely managed to stifle his laugh, because Arthur was currently about as tall as his bed, which now looked positively enormous beside him. How he would climb onto it later at night, one could only imagine. “We arranged it weeks ago, we can’t just call it off now.”

“Would you rather have her see you like this?” Merlin asked, gesturing towards him. “Never mind _me_ shaming the kingdom, she can’t possibly find out that the King has been turned into a toddler.”

“I am NOT a toddler!” Arthur spluttered, his voice going embarrassingly high again, and both Merlin and Gaius looked at each other before simultaneously deciding that it would be a good idea to save their laughter for when they were in private.

“I’ll go and send word to Queen Annis that the meeting will have to be postponed,” Gaius whispered to Merlin, once he had recovered a straight face.

“Let’s just hope it wears off soon,” Merlin replied, unconsciously wringing his hands.

Unfortunately, the spell did not wear off the next morning. However, the messenger who had been sent to Queen Annis returned saying that it was just as well that they had cancelled, since the queen had been feeling a bit faint on her journey towards Camelot, and appeared to be coming down with a cold. Merlin was relieved to find that he did not have to wear the court sorcerer’s robes after all, or at least for a good long while.

He walked into Arthur’s chambers and found him practically wrapped up in a cocoon of sheets. He tip-toed around the bed, not wanting to wake Arthur so as to observe him a while longer. Despite having been made court sorcerer, Merlin still attended to Arthur in his chambers, but thankfully minus the cleaning chores. In fact, Arthur had allowed Merlin to choose his new manservant for him, and instruct him on which chores he was allowed to do and which ones he wasn’t. Arthur trusted Merlin more than anyone else, which was why Merlin was still the only one who was allowed to come in and wake him up, put him to bed, and basically do anything that involved touching the king in any way.

Arthur at five years old, Merlin had to admit, was heartbreakingly endearing. His hair was a lighter blonde than adult-Arthur’s, so much that it was almost white, especially where the early morning sunlight hit it at certain angles. Apparently Arthur’s new body came with matching childlike tendencies, because this Arthur had his thumb stuck in his mouth, which he lightly sucked in his sleep. Merlin couldn’t help smiling at how cute he looked, and just stood there watching him, not wanting to disturb this peaceful quiet.

It didn’t last long, however. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered open, his irises a bright, clear sky-blue, and gazed sleepily up at Merlin, wrapped up in the covers of his bed. Merlin bent over to brush his hair out of his eyes, and Arthur yawned widely, throwing his limbs outwards and stretching out on the bed, arching his back. Unfortunately, this got him so tangled in the blankets that when he tried to move again, he found that he couldn’t.

Laughing, Merlin reached to extricate him from the blankets, and somehow ended up cradling Arthur in his arms after freeing him. Arthur was a bit heavier than he had expected, but was still manageable enough to carry, so carry him Merlin did. In fact, after tucking his feet and head into the crook of his arms, he began to gently rock Arthur back and forth like he was holding a baby.

To his surprise, Arthur buried his face into Merlin’s chest and rested there for a few minutes, looking decidedly content, until he suddenly realised what they were doing and gave a yelp of surprise, thrashing wildly. Merlin cried out in shock and released him, sending Arthur toppling back onto the bed and rolling until he grabbed onto a pillow almost as big as he was to steady himself.

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur complained, and Merlin wondered briefly how Arthur still managed to emphasise the first syllable of his name in exactly the same way he had before. “I can’t believe you…never mind. You will not speak of this to _anyone,_ do I make myself clear?" 

“Yes, sire,” said Merlin. He paused for a second, watching Arthur’s prostrate form on the bed. “You’ve woken up a bit earlier than usual, though. I wasn’t going to wake you just yet. You have to go and train the knights in an hour or so.” Merlin had informed the knights yesterday evening about Arthur’s condition, and after much guffawing from them (especially from Gwaine), they expressed how intrigued they were for the upcoming training session the next day.

Arthur groaned and rolled over onto his stomach. “I don’t want to _go_ ,” he whined petulantly, sounding so much like a child that Merlin was momentarily stunned. “They’re going to laugh at me.”

The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched as he tried to imagine the scenario, but he fought the smile down. “You’re the king, Arthur, and the knights respect you too much to laugh at your expense,” he said reassuringly.

“You and Gaius thought I was funny. I saw you.”

“That’s different,” said Merlin, coming over to the other side of the bed where he could speak to Arthur at a closer range. “Come on, you prat, don’t look so bloody serious; it doesn’t suit you in your state. You _are_ very adorable as a child, you know.”

Arthur squeaked indignantly, moving his head to glare at Merlin, but the resulting effect just made Merlin’s grin widen. He reached forward and scooped Arthur up from under the arms, and swung him around so his legs flailed outwards like Merlin’s own mother used to do.

“Come on, let me have my fun, just for a bit,” he pleaded as Arthur yelped and struggled in his arms. Taking a risk, he tossed Arthur straight up into the air and caught him when he fell before doing it again.

The child in his arms stopped glaring at him as the expression on his face was replaced by one of surprise, and after a few seconds he laughed instead, a delightfully joyous and melodious sound, much unlike the harsh bark his adult version normally gave. Seeing his king look so happy made Merlin’s heart swell with warmth and a feeling of protectiveness overwhelmed him. He wondered for a moment whether Uther had ever played with his son like this, and decided that he probably hadn’t.

“Merlin!” Arthur shrieked, his voice excited and very, very high. “Put me down! _Mer_ lin!” Merlin privately thought that Arthur didn’t sound very annoyed by his actions at all, so he proceeded to completely disobey the king’s orders like he usually did. He swung him around until they were both dizzy, tossed him upwards and caught him again and again until his arms ached, and threw him over his shoulder when he was tired. Arthur had to beat his fists against Merlin’s shoulder blades and order him to put him back on the floor to get dressed.

Merlin eventually stopped the game when Arthur started tugging at his ears (“OW! Not my ears - God help me, _argh,_ don’t fucking _touch_ my ears! Yes, Arthur, like that - no, OUCH! Okay, _okay,_ I’ll do anything you ask of me, just let go, please…”)

Merlin was slightly sweaty by the end of it all, having exerted himself for quite some time, but he didn’t mind one bit. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

* * *

Arthur was a little late to training, because Merlin had forgotten that his chainmail also needed to be resized. It took a bit longer to make the iron bend to his will, but Merlin managed it in the end. Soon enough, a miniature set of armour was produced for Arthur to wear. Arthur held his head high as he practically strutted onto the field to meet the knights, trying to make himself look tall.

Sir Percival was surprisingly adept at keeping a straight face, and Sir Elyan managed to force down a smile, but Sir Leon’s jaw was taut around the edges, making it obvious that he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. All the other knights had similarly tight expressions, but Sir Gwaine would have none of it. As soon as he saw Arthur, he gave a loud, “HA!” before he burst into laughter so loud it was infectious. At this, the knights started darting looks at each other, betraying their amusement with twitching lips and crinkled, slightly bulging eyes. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look menacing, but it only made Sir Gwaine laugh even more. “I c-can’t…” he spluttered, doubling over. “I never thought… Arthur, I have to say, you must have been s-such a cuddly _darling_ as a child.”

Arthur stiffened at being called a ‘cuddly darling’, but now the other knights began to laugh as well, unable to control their mirth any longer. To Arthur’s utter dismay, Merlin decided to join in on the fun. “Yes, he’s rather lovable like this, don’t you think?” he said with a grin, reaching down to pat and ruffle the top of Arthur’s head in the most condescending way possible. The knights laughed harder, to the point that even noble Leon was smiling uncontrollably. 

“All right, you can have your fun,” Arthur said loudly, when it became apparent that the knights weren’t going to act serious if he didn’t let them get it out of their systems. “Go on, have a good chuckle, but afterwards I’m still training you, so you had better not disappoint me.”

Merlin hung around like he usually did, but this time Arthur noticed him watching with great attentiveness. Normally Arthur would take the opportunity to show off his swordsmanship in front of him, occasionally turning back to wink at Merlin whenever he knocked yet another knight down. However, he had a feeling today was going to be very different, what with him being, well, more than twenty years younger and around half the size of the rest of the knights. Arthur was practically a midget next to Percival, but that wasn’t his fault, really, since the man was as tall as a tower anyway. Arthur wondered privately if the knights would go easy on him like they had when they were training for the tourney, and wasn’t sure whether he wanted that to happen or not.

Merlin sat down on a bench by the sword stands, leaning forward in interest as Arthur took up a miniature sword. It wasn’t Excalibur, since Arthur had flat-out refused to let Merlin use magic on his beloved sword, afraid that he would irreversibly damage it or something. Arthur knew it was ironic, given that Merlin had been the person who had forged it with the dragon’s help in the first place, but he had been insistent nonetheless. He had even used his most pleading puppy-dog eyes on him, remembering that they had always worked on Cook when he had asked for extra food as a child. Those eyes had been Arthur’s secret weapon when he was smaller, and he could wield that look just as well as his sword. Whoever he used it on just had to give in, so what better time to use it than now, when he actually _looked_ like a child, too?

Sir Leon faced Arthur first. It took them barely a few seconds of fighting before it became obvious that Arthur had one clear advantage: his size. Evidently, Sir Leon was not accustomed to battling such a small opponent, if his slightly pinched expression was anything to go by, and he wasn’t even fighting with as much force as he used to. Arthur smiled to himself. Sir Leon had always been ever so hopelessly loyal.

Arthur parried Sir Leon’s blows and weaved this way and that, his small feet agile as he ducked under Sir Leon’s swinging arm with uncanny speed, the blade narrowly missing the crown of his head. When Sir Leon stumbled a little from the momentum, Arthur seized the opportunity and delivered a harsh blow to the back of his knees. The knight toppled to the ground, landing with a soft _oomph_ in the grass, flat on his back. Arthur pinned him there with his sword, and Sir Leon was forced to hold his hands up in surrender.

As soon as he did, Arthur released him and did a happy little dance in the grass, jumping up and down and pumping his fists. “Yes!” he shouted in glee. Apparently, this must have made him look rather cute, so much that the rest of the knights could barely hide their smiles.

Sir Lancelot was next. Apparently the knight had figured out that taking it easy on the king would not be an option, because Arthur was just as ‘fighting fit’ as he was in adult form. He gave the fight his all, but Arthur was fast as well as small, and it only took him a few minutes longer to best Sir Lancelot as well. Merlin whooped from where he was sitting, and Arthur turned to give him a blinding grin so wide his crooked teeth showed.

One by one, the knights were beaten, no matter what weapon they used. Arthur was particularly skilled with the mace, and his reduced height gave him the ability to use it to hit the stomachs and other, ah, more _sensitive_ parts of the knights’ bodies. He got more and more confident with his fighting skills as time passed, always turning back to grin complacently at Merlin every chance he got.

Everything went swimmingly until Sir Percival stepped forward. He was Arthur’s final opponent, and was so concerned about hurting the king that he insisted they fight with sticks rather than swords, gentle giant that he was. After the other knights agreed that it would probably be for the best, Arthur gave in. They fought with great vigour, and Arthur chose to use his stick to hit the knight wherever he could rather than parry his blows, which he had wisely decided to avoid since they would be inevitably stronger than his. He danced around him, his movements quick and light.

The fight lasted a lot longer than most of the others had, and after around ten minutes Arthur began to tire, the fatigue finally catching up to the muscles in his small frame. His blows became more sluggish as he darted around Sir Percival jerkily, as though his leg muscles were burning from overwork. Sir Percival whipped around and struck out, but Arthur was too slow to block him. 

The stick caught him on the forehead, and Arthur knew no more. 

* * *

Merlin watched the scene unfold before him as though in slow motion, consumed by terror. Arthur’s head was knocked so far backwards the rest of his body toppled as well, and when he fell, he was as boneless as a rag doll.

“ARTHUR!”

Merlin was by the king’s side in seconds. Arthur had a small gash on his forehead that wasn’t bleeding, but there was a large bruise around it which Merlin feared would be causing even more problems than if it were. In addition to that, Merlin wasn’t too good (read: absolutely pants) at using healing magic on internal wounds, which meant there wasn’t much he could do right this second to stabilise Arthur’s condition. He was barely conscious, as Merlin found when he held a finger up to Arthur’s nose to check his breathing. Arthur’s hand was slack, with his own stick still in it. Merlin’s only consolation was that no splinters had been embedded in Arthur’s forehead, so the wound was clean.

Sir Percival appeared to be frozen in shock, still holding the stick in his hands. Sir Gwaine went to him and pulled it from his grip. “Take him to Gaius,” Merlin heard him whisper urgently, patting the knight’s muscled arm to snap him out of it. Sir Percival came back to himself and strode forward, picking Arthur up with ease and carrying him in the direction of the castle. Perhaps it was just because Sir Percival was so very tall, but Merlin couldn’t help but think how small Arthur looked in his arms then, his face pale and the bruise on his forehead purpling rapidly. He followed him into the castle, and thought that he had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

Fortunately for Arthur, the injury wasn’t serious. Gaius quickly mixed up a salve that he applied to the bruise and checked his head for any fractures of his skull. Apparently, Arthur had a rather hard head despite his young age, and his cranium had not caved in like Morgana’s had when she had fallen down the stairs that time Merlin tried to prevent the prophecy foretelling Uther’s death from occurring. Merlin privately thought it explained how Arthur had managed to survive so many hits to the head over the years they had spent together without any complaint or sign of mental degradation.

Merlin, Sir Percival and Sir Gwaine sat by his bedside, not saying much to each other, as Gaius had ordered them to let the king rest without being disturbed by incessant chatter. Sir Percival felt incredibly guilty about it all, but after the transpired events had been explained to Gaius, the old man reassured him like the others had that it had been an accident, and was therefore not his fault.

Arthur slept for the whole day. Sir Gwaine left around lunchtime looking for something to eat, and Sir Percival shortly after, but Merlin wasn’t hungry, even when Gaius shoved him a plate of food. He spent hours in the same position sitting next to Arthur, watching his chest rise and fall, and twitching in his seat at the slightest movement that would indicate the king was awake. The bruise had receded for the most part and was now a faint greenish colour with no purple in sight, though Arthur’s face was still pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.

“You must eat, Merlin,” Gaius admonished. “I don’t want you fainting around the place when Arthur wakes up.” He shoved the plate in Merlin’s direction again, but Merlin only waved it away and shook his head. There was an unsettling feeling that rested somewhere deep in Merlin’s stomach as he watched Arthur sleep, and it took him a few seconds to realise what it was: guilt.

“It was an accident, Merlin,” Gaius told him, exactly like he had done to Sir Percival. “He will survive.”

“I could have prevented it from happening,” said Merlin softly. “With my magic.”

Gaius sighed, giving up his attempt to make Merlin eat his dinner and instead sitting on the bed to talk to him. “If you could prevent everything bad in this world from happening to Arthur, he would not be fulfilling his role as Camelot’s king,” he reasoned. “Besides, you’d tire yourself to exhaustion watching out for him. I know you believe he’s worth dying for, Merlin, but please, always remember to take care of yourself.”

Merlin felt a little better after listening to Gaius, and the old man just smiled and patted him on the shoulder, leaving the plate of food on the bedside table.

It was late evening when Arthur finally blinked his eyes open. Merlin had blown out all the candles save for one flickering on the table beside him, in case the light would trigger nausea, but Arthur groaned and squeezed his eyes shut nevertheless. “I’m dizzy,” he mumbled. “What happened?”

“You - you don’t remember?” Merlin reached forward and took Arthur’s hand in his, marvelling at how small it was. 

“Don’t worry, M’rlin, I don’t think I’ve lost my memory,” Arthur slurred, sounding exasperated, yet fond. “I remember everything prior to… whatever happened.”

“You were accidentally hit by Sir Percival,” Merlin explained quickly. “During training this morning. You’ve been resting the whole day.”

Arthur looked at him with sleepy blue eyes and nodded. Suddenly, a wave of tiredness seemed to overwhelm him and he yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth. Normally Merlin would have smiled at such a display, but his face remained stricken.

“There’s no need to look like a kicked puppy, _Mer_ lin. I’m fine, really,” said Arthur, patting Merlin’s hand reassuringly. “The room is spinning a little, and there’s this strange ringing in my ears, but I don’t think I’m dying. I’m not, am I?” he added at the end, his eyes widening a little as he waited for Merlin’s response.

Merlin smiled at him, his features finally relaxing, and tucked the duvet in at the sides so they would wrap around his king and keep him warmer. “No,” he said simply. “I think you have a concussion, though, from what you described. All the other symptoms are showing, except one.”

“What’s the last symptom?” Arthur asked, but mere seconds after the words had left his mouth, he had his answer. Merlin quickly summoned a bucket with his magic, just in time for Arthur to roll over and puke into. Arthur dry-heaved for the most part, as he had not eaten for the whole day. However, a few remnants of his breakfast still came up, and the king retched and spat bile for what seemed like an age, his breath ragged and his body shaking all over.

When he was done, the contents of the bucket vanished with a flash of Merlin’s eyes. Merlin knew from experience that Arthur hated being seen like this, so he did his best to get rid of any traces of sick, using his magic to clean the corners of Arthur’s mouth and the lower half of his face. Arthur giggled weakly at the tickling sensation that accompanied the spell, sluggishly batting at his face as if to swat away an invisible hand. When Merlin was sure that his king wasn’t going to throw up again, he tucked him back into bed, plumping up his pillow and folding the edge of the duvet so it propped his chin up, just the way he knew Arthur liked it.

They eased into a comfortable silence, the candlelight casting shadows across both their faces and making Arthur’s platinum-blonde hair glow silver. It seemed like a very long time had passed when Arthur finally broke through the quiet.

“What would you do, Merlin, if I did die?” he whispered, his voice hesitant.

Merlin paused. Both men (or rather, man and five-year-old-boy-with-the-mental-capacity-of-an-adult) knew that this was a sensitive topic between them. Ever since Arthur’s near-death experience at Camlann, Merlin had always been paranoid about Arthur suffering anything similar again. He had promised Kilgharrah that he would not treat him like a horse in future, partly because the dragon had done enough for him by flying them to the Lake of Avalon and thereby saving Arthur’s life, and also because Kilgharrah really was getting on quite a bit, even for a dragon. But since then, Arthur and Merlin had both avoided the topic of the events that had transpired, as if Arthur hadn’t been injured at all. The only part of it that was actually acknowledged was Merlin’s confession that he had magic, which he owed to Arthur to explain about anyway, since he had kept it a secret from him for over a decade. 

This was the first time either of them had ever brought up the subject of what had happened, and what they would have done if things had gone differently. Merlin remained silent for a long while before he replied. 

“If you died…” he trailed off for a moment, trying to push down the emotion welling up inside him as he thought about how he had held a barely breathing Arthur in the Lake of Avalon, thinking that he was too late. It had been a very near miss that time. “If you died, I’d find you. No matter where you went.”

Arthur’s gaze was soft, his blue eyes sparkling. “Idiot,” he said affectionately, and Merlin looked up at him, surprised. “You can barely find your own _backside_ half the time. How would you be able to find me on the other side?”

Merlin had to laugh. Before long, Arthur joined in too, his eyes bright with happiness, and in that moment, everything was alright again.

* * *

Arthur woke up the next morning to find that the nausea and the ringing in his ears had gone completely. He rolled over to find Merlin fast asleep beside him, his head resting on the bed so his face was buried in the covers and hidden by his arms. He also noticed that the dinner plate on the bedside table had been scraped clean, which meant Merlin had eaten at some point, probably after Arthur had fallen asleep, so the issue of Merlin’s eternal scrawniness was resolved somewhat. Arthur’s reached up to feel at his own forehead. His head wound seemed to have healed completely, at least from what he could tell, save for a faint line of a scar, but it was so imperceptible that Arthur could easily hide it with his fringe of golden hair. Not that he needed to, because his father had once taught him to wear his scars with pride, just like he did his armour and his crown.

Just as he was beginning to wonder what time it was, Gaius entered his chambers. “Feeling better?” he asked, looking pleased at the sight of Arthur sitting up in bed, perfectly healthy again.

Instead of replying, Arthur put a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he hissed, inclining his head in Merlin’s direction, eyes widening. “Don’t wake Merlin. He’s sleeping." 

Gaius’ mouth fell open in comprehension, and then he smiled and nodded. “Alright, I’ll be quiet,” he whispered, sounding almost conspiratorial. “Your breakfast is on the table, my lord.” He gestured towards it, where a plate of sausages, chicken drumsticks and an apple sat. Arthur hadn’t even realised how hungry he was until that moment, and his stomach growled loudly. Gaius let out a soft chuckle at the sound. “Go on, then,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Follow your stomach.”

The old man watched him eat his breakfast in case the food didn’t agree with him like it had yesterday. Fortunately, Arthur was able to keep it all down, and was immensely glad when Gaius informed him that his injury had indeed healed completely, and spectacularly at that. The table was much too high for Arthur, but Gaius had arranged for multiple cushions to be layered on top of each other on the chair, so Arthur could place his hands on the table and eat his food.

Arthur was mindful not to eat too loudly, especially after Gaius told him how Merlin had been by his side all day yesterday, but it was difficult to control his chubby, clumsy hands as they handled the fork and knife. Merlin turned out to be in an unusually deep sleep, however, so even when Arthur’s cutlery accidentally clanged against the edge of the plate, he barely stirred in his position. Eventually, Gaius went over to the bed and arranged him so he would be more comfortable, stuffing a pillow under his head so he wouldn’t have to sleep on his arms and cut off the circulation there. Arthur watched him do this, feeling a little bad that he wasn’t able to do it himself, as he would probably collapse under Merlin’s weight. The fact that Merlin was now actually heavier than him was something Arthur found very difficult to grasp.

Arthur had managed to put off thinking about his current state up till now, but without Merlin’s incessant chatter to push the thoughts from his mind, he found it wandering dangerously towards them. He wondered how long he would have to stay stuck in a child’s body, and what he would do if someone outside the court found out. If he wasn’t like this, he would never have been injured, and Queen Annis would have come to Camelot as planned. Arthur hated it when his routine was disrupted. Most of all was the fear that overrode everything else: the fear that he would _never_ turn back into his old self, the fear that others would deem him unfit to rule despite the fact that he still thought like an adult. He had never felt more vulnerable and defenceless in his entire life.

“Gaius?” he called out. The old man turned around from where he was arranging the covers of Arthur’s bed. Once he was sure that he had gotten Gaius’ attention, Arthur suddenly found that his question was asked in a very small, scared voice. “I… won’t be stuck like this forever, will I?" 

Gaius’ eyebrows bunched together, making him look distinctly forlorn. “I’m afraid there is no telling, sire,” he said. “I have always found Merlin’s accidental magic to be rather troublesome, because it cannot be reversed by a spell or potion. His magic flows from the earth itself, from the very fabric of the world, so the only way for you to turn back is if he were to perform the spell for it himself.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped. “But Merlin said he didn’t know how to do it,” he said, and was dismayed to find his voice sounding high and frantic as he began to talk faster. “If he can’t reverse the spell, then no one else can!”

Gaius looked troubled for a moment as he thought, but then his face took on a different expression that was hard to place. He moved away from the bed towards Arthur and sat down in a chair opposite him. “I have an idea that could _possibly_ work, sire,” he said slowly. “If you’ll allow me…”

Arthur tried to lean forward, but since the edge of the table was so high it reached his chest, he couldn’t do much more than move his head a little closer. “What is it, Gaius?”

“How exactly did Merlin manage to turn you into a child?”

Arthur cast his mind back, trying to recall as many details as possible. “We were having an argument about his court sorcerer robes,” he explained. “He… didn’t like the pointed hat.” Gaius couldn’t suppress his smile, and Arthur shook his head, smiling at the pettiness of the argument they had had. “I think I said something along the lines of how he was acting like a child, and then he said…” Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Yes?” Gaius prompted.

“He said…he said, ‘No, you’re the child.’ And then everything started shaking, and there was this really bright light, and…I ended up like this,” Arthur finished lamely.

Gaius’ eyebrows shot up. “I see.” Arthur could practically see the cogs turning in Gaius’ head, and at long last, Gaius spoke again. “It seems that your condition was caused by an extreme emotion acting as the catalyst for Merlin’s magic to lash out. If that is the case, the only way you can revert back to your old self is if you tried to…incense him again.”

“So you’re saying I have to make him angry?”

“It seems to be the only plausible solution.”

It made sense to Arthur, though he wasn’t sure whether this was because his five-year-old mind was slightly less rational than his adult one, and therefore could not find any holes in this plan. But then he remembered Merlin telling him that his mentality had not been altered, only his body, so he took comfort in that and nodded. “How do I do that, then?”

Gaius pursed his lips. “It didn’t seem to be so difficult the first time, so I don’t suppose it would be a problem for you, my lord,” he said. “Both you and I know how Merlin wears his heart on his sleeve. It would not take much to stir up his emotions, especially regarding matters that concern you, sire.”

Arthur had to admit that Gaius had a point. “Alright then,” he said. He glanced over to the bed, where Merlin was still sleeping. “I’ll try when he wakes up.”

“I’ll just leave you here with him then,” said Gaius, getting up. “Good luck, sire.”

As soon as Gaius left, Arthur immediately realised that he had a problem. His legs were hanging well away from the floor, which meant that there was no way he could get out of his chair on his own without a) making a racket and/or b) toppling out of the side and thereby getting another concussion. Merlin had always been around to help him before, but Merlin was currently fast asleep. Arthur pushed at the table, trying to move the chair a good distance away so he could slide off the cushions, but the chair was much too heavy to move like this, let alone with the weight of his body and numerous cushions on top of it.

“ARGH!”

Arthur’s high-pitched yell of frustration startled Merlin from his sleep, and he practically shot out of his chair at the noise. “Arthur?” he said, appearing at his side. “What is it?”

 _Merlin wears his heart on his sleeve,_ Gaius’ words echoed in Arthur’s head. _Incense him again._

Right. Arthur tried to think of a way to tap into Merlin's emotions. Calling him an idiot wouldn’t work, as Merlin normally countered by calling him a clotpole anyway. He wouldn’t respond to threats either, as he never took them seriously. What could he do?

Just then, Arthur remembered something. He was a child. And what did children do most?

“I CAN’T GET OUT OF MY CHAIR!” Arthur yelled, and promptly burst into tears.

Merlin was so shocked by Arthur’s sudden tantrum that he froze for a few seconds. Arthur cried as loudly as possible, recalling how Morgana used to do it when she was younger so as to get her way. Uther’s resolve used to melt like butter whenever she showed even the slightest hint of crying, and the more attention-seeking she was, the faster she would get results.

But Arthur wasn’t trying to get Merlin to do whatever he wanted (since he already did - most of the time, anyway); he was trying to make him angry. And to make him angry, he first had to make a scene.

“You’re completely _useless_ , aren’t you,” he yelled. “You’re supposed to be protecting me, you _halfwit,_ and instead you go and take a nap!”

Arthur had expected Merlin to respond with something along the lines of how he had stayed with Arthur for the entire day yesterday and therefore deserved some well-earned sleep, but to his surprise and dismay, Merlin said, “I’m sorry, I was so tired I didn’t notice when I fell asleep. It wasn’t intentional, I promise. Here, I’ll help you out of your chair.”

Arthur almost stopped crying when Merlin lifted him out of his seat to the floor, but remembered the real reason why he was doing what he was doing, and tried another tactic.

“You claim to be the greatest sorcerer who’s ever lived,” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Merlin, “but you can’t even summon enough magic to turn me back! I’ve been stuck like this for almost a _whole_ day _!_ ”

Instead of indignantly retorting with a list of the countless times he had already saved him, or pointing out that it had only been _one day_ , for God’s sake, Merlin said, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I really am, Arthur. I’m trying my best to think of something, but you heard what Gaius said before…”

It wasn’t working. Arthur felt genuinely annoyed. Gods, why was Merlin so _patient_ with him?!

Suddenly, he had an epiphany. If Merlin wore his heart on his sleeve, that meant he had something he was attached to. Arthur thought back to the days before he had met Merlin, and remembered: there was one thing a man could not stand, and that was an utter disrespect of his parents.

Arthur took a deep breath, knowing that his next words would most definitely strike a nerve. “If Balinor could see you now, he’d - ”

As soon the name of Merlin’s father escaped his lips, he knew it had done the trick; Merlin’s face reddened dangerously. “ _Don’t_ talk about my father like that,” he said, his voice soft, but his hands were already shaking, and his eyes filling rapidly with tears.

Sadness was good, Arthur thought. Sadness was one step closer to rage, which was what he was aiming for. With as much malice as he could possibly fit into his words, well-honed from his pre-Merlin years, Arthur jeered, “Oh, I see I’ve hit a soft spot, am I right? But it’s true, you know. For all your dragonlord abilities, you can’t even do proper magic. Wherever your father is now, I bet he’s so _ashamed_ to see his own son - ”

“SHUT UP!” Merlin yelled, but not nearly as loud as Arthur wanted it to be; he needed it to reverberate around the room and shake the walls of the castle itself like it had done last time.

“ _Someone’s_ missing his dear old daddy,” he taunted mockingly. As Arthur said this, he noticed that the fork and knife that he had used for his breakfast had now began to rattle on the silver plate, and a wind was stirring Merlin’s hair even though the windows were closed, making it wild and unkempt. Merlin was sufficiently irate now, but Arthur knew it wasn’t enough; he still had to steer Merlin’s mind in the correct direction so it would be in the right mindset to perform the spell he wanted. Arthur wasn’t crying anymore, but Merlin was too furious to notice. So he said, “I never knew you were so _immature._ Stop being such a baby and _grow up_ , will you?”

“NO, YOU GROW UP!” Merlin roared, his voice unearthly, and before Arthur knew it, he was drowning in all-consuming white.

Perhaps it was because he hadn’t known what was happening the first time, but Arthur could actually feel his body changing now. His limbs tingled all over as they elongated, and Arthur could feel the skin rippling as it stretched to accommodate the muscle and bone. His hair got longer as well, brushing over his left eye like it sometimes did, and he had the overall sensation of being stretched. In fact, there was a ripping sound coming from somewhere, and he was feeling a lot colder now, almost like his skin was bare…

Shit. His clothes.

Fuck, where were his clothes?

It was fortunate that Merlin was the only person in the room, because he was the only person who was actually accustomed to seeing Arthur naked. He was still breathing heavily when Arthur finally opened his eyes to find himself sitting in the tattered remains of his tunic, trousers and smallclothes, now reduced to unrecognisable pieces of blue, brown and white. 

When Merlin opened his eyes and saw him, he stared for a few seconds at Arthur’s naked form before he realised what he was doing and averted his gaze. However, instead of laughing like Arthur had expected him to, Merlin strode over towards him and raised his hand. 

_**SMACK.** _

“OUCH!”

“That was a low blow, Arthur,” Merlin said, with his teeth gritted and his jaw set hard. “I don’t care what you do next time to make me perform accidental magic, but that blow was for Balinor. Don’t use my father as a means to do so ever again.”

The side of Arthur’s face burned, even worse than it had that time when Queen Annis had slapped him for killing Caerleon. Arthur supposed that magic had something to do with it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising himself when he realised he meant every word. “It was the first thing that came into my head.”

 _"Arse,”_ said Merlin, some traces of anger still in his voice. He hit Arthur again, but playfully this time in the shoulder. It seemed he was completely unfazed by Arthur’s nudity. “I suppose I should have seen it coming.” He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “You know, you’re the only person who can ever infuriate me that much.”

Both of them were aware that Merlin had meant it as a joke, but Arthur knew what Merlin _really_ meant to say. Arthur was the one person who could get to Merlin’s feelings, the only person Merlin trusted and would die for. Merlin seemed to realise the true meaning of what he had said as well, and for a moment they just looked at each other. 

It lasted for a few seconds before Merlin’s face suddenly broke into a grin. “I’m going to miss carrying you around like a baby, though.”

Arthur spluttered, and Merlin threw his head back and laughed. “You could always use your magic,” Arthur countered.

“True.”

Arthur chuckled as well, but his laughter faded when Merlin’s expression suddenly turned serious and he grabbed him by the hand.

“Arthur,” he said. “I’m serious.” He took a deep breath, and said solemnly, “If you ever fall, I’ll always be there to catch you.”

It was the cheesiest thing Merlin had ever said to him, and Arthur would have laughed at him if it weren’t for the totally earnest expression on his face that meant he couldn’t take this lightly.

And somehow, in a childish way, Arthur supposed that it was enough.


End file.
